


Maybe Then

by clotpolesonly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur who doesn't realize his privilege, Gen, Merlin lets him have it, but it felt damn good to write, fed up Merlin, mostly just ranting tbh, remix eligible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2179563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Arthur is a stuck-up, self-entitled prat and Merlin is having none of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just really like Merlin getting a nice rant once in a while.
> 
> Now with art by the wonderful [dawn-rot](http://dawn-rot.tumblr.com/)!!

Merlin threw open the curtains to let the bright midmorning sun slap Arthur in the face. The prince let out a loud groan of pain and annoyance and simultaneously buried his face in one pillow while throwing another at Merlin’s head. Merlin ducked the expected projectile—simply being thankful it wasn’t another goblet, since those tended to clatter loudly and make Arthur even more irritable than the sunlight—and went to retrieve the prince’s clothing for the day ahead of him, leaving Arthur to crawl his own way out of bed to his waiting breakfast. Eventually Arthur hauled himself to his feet and allowed Merlin to begin dressing him. He looked down at the tunic Merlin had pulled from his wardrobe and wrinkled his nose at it.

“This tunic is all worn,” he complained. Merlin looked at the garment critically and saw absolutely nothing wrong with it at all. It was definitely of a finer quality than anything he’d ever owned, or would ever own. He raised an eyebrow at Arthur, who continued complaining. “It’s wearing thing all over. Look, the sleeves are about to start getting holes, I swear. This ratty thing’s going to fall apart before long. Get rid of this one, get me another.” Arthur pulled the tunic off and threw it at Merlin, waiting impatiently for another.

Merlin gaped at him for a moment in astonishment. There was nothing _wrong_ with the blasted tunic, it was still perfectly serviceable. Still, Arthur’s face was set and Merlin had little to no say about Arthur’s belongings in the end, so he tossed the tunic onto the top of the pile of laundry he had to wash later that day, making a mental note that it was officially out of service. He pulled another tunic from the wardrobe, trying hard not to roll his eyes at the prince’s princely attitude. Arthur allowed him to pull this one over his head and moved toward his breakfast, turning back to point at his bed.

“That pillow’s got a hole in it, by the way,” he pointed out. “See to it that I get a new one by tonight.” Merlin picked up the pillow to see a minute hole, one no one could possibly even see unless their face was buried in it as Arthur’s had been, in the decorative front.

 

  
Art by dawn-rot ([x](http://dawn-rot.tumblr.com/post/153025869201/maybe-then-art-for-the-absolutely-wonderful))

 

He bit his tongue to keep from snapping at his master and tossed the pillow with a little more force than necessary onto the top of the laundry pile next to the apparently defective tunic. He went gather up the pieces of Arthur’s armor from where the prince had carelessly dropped or thrown them when he had removed them the night before. He saw there were severely dents and scratches from where they had hit the ground.

“Oh yes, Merlin, you need to polish all that by training this afternoon,” he said carelessly, seeing what he was looking at. “May want to hammer out some of those dents as well.” Merlin stared at him incredulously but kept his mouth firmly shut, not trusting himself to speak to the spoilt brat without getting himself thrown in the stocks. He piled the armor carefully so as to not injure the poor metal any more than its owner had.

“Is this really all you brought me for breakfast?” Arthur asked, his tone scornful and pompous as he looked at the platter of meat, cheese and bread. Merlin scowled heavily at him; that was more than Merlin had gotten for breakfast, considering he hadn’t had the time to eat anything at all. Seeing his less than pleased expression, Arthur rolled his eyes and pushed the plate away from him. “Whatever, take it away. Your sour attitude this morning is ruining my appetite. Go give it to the pigs or something.”

That did it.

Merlin strode right up to the table and slammed his hands down on it, making Arthur raise his eyebrows in slightly amused surprise, but he was too angry to care.

“What is _wrong_ with you, you arrogant, wasteful, spoilt _brat_?” he demanded. Arthur’s amusement faded immediately and he stood up slowly to face his incensed servant.

“Watch your mouth,” he said warningly. “I may give you a lot of leeway, Merlin, but I am still your prince and you will you show me respect.”

“I will _not_ ,” Merlin said hotly, ignoring the positively dangerous look on his master’s face now. “Not when you show such blatant disrespect for everything and everyone around you.”

“Ex _cuse_ me,” Arthur spluttered indignantly. “I do no such thing!”

“You disrespect every one of your citizens by being so incredibly ungrateful and taking for granted all the things you have,” Merlin told him, jabbing a finger around at the opulence of his royal chambers. “This food, this one measly breakfast that you complain about, this is more food than most people in the lower town get in an entire day. That tunic that you want to throw away like garbage, that one garment could buy an entire winter outfit for a child in need of it down there. Most of your people don’t even have a proper _bed_ to sleep in, much less six decorative pillows to put on it. That armor you toss around so carelessly costs more than most people’s entire houses, all furnishings included. And yet you waltz around here in your lavish chambers and sneer at all the expensive things you have like they’re rubbish, and I’m getting _sick_ of it!”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond angrily but Merlin didn’t allow him to get a word in, he just continued on, determined to have his say.

“And the worst part is that you don’t even _realize_ just how ridiculously privileged you are because you don’t know any different!” His voice was rising and he seemed to be just barely holding back from shouting at the prince in earnest. “You’ve grown up with everything you could possibly want being handed to you on a silver platter by a servant who scraped and bowed and called you brilliant. You are out of touch with your own people, you have no idea what it’s like for most of them. The life of a peasant isn’t an easy one, Arthur, and you spit at everyone one of them with this sort of behavior. How do you expect your people to believe in you fully when you are so far removed from their way of life? You need to stop and _think_ every once and a while of the way your people live and the hardships they face every day that you’ve never seen in your entire life. Maybe if you do that, you won’t be so willing to carelessly throw away what most people couldn’t afford with months’ worth of pay, or toss to the pigs enough food to feed a poor family. Maybe then you’ll actually be worthy of the amount of faith your people place in you, instead of being the pompous, ungrateful arse you are now.”

Arthur gaped at his servant. He had certainly never seen the easygoing young man so angry, not in the two years he had been in his employ, nor had he ever had anyone speak to him in such a manner. It took him a moment to take in everything he had said, taken aback as he was at the vehemence of his tirade and the fierceness in the blue eyes pinning him down. His mouth was open but he didn’t seem to have the presence of mind to shut it. He glanced down, wanting to get away from the feeling of being judged and found wanting, and caught sight of Merlin’s clothes. One look was enough to see that it was homespun cotton, thin and worn, with a hole near the hem of the slightly too long sleeve. And yet Merlin wore this shirt probably every other day, and _he_ never complained about it. Arthur was aware that Merlin only had two shirts to his name to begin with, both of this low quality, and Arthur suddenly felt guilty for having a wardrobe full of rich, fine clothes to do with as he pleased.

Shame and mortification rushed in on him, making his face flush, and he finally snapped his mouth closed. He could feel Merlin’s harsh eyes still boring into the top of his head and he sank down into his chair, staring at his hands in his lap and feeling thoroughly chastised. When he glanced up again, he saw that Merlin had backed off a bit, looking shocked that the normally bullheaded prince had relented so quickly and without so much as a retort. He sighed, knowing he would actually have to say it out loud, and shelve his pride to do so.

“You’re right, Merlin,” he admitted quietly, glancing up briefly to see Merlin’s reaction to this rare occurrence. If he had looked shocked before, he looked absolutely astounded now. Arthur rarely ever admitted that his servant was right, and never with things like this, with personal criticisms of the prince himself. He looked back down at his hands, twisting the ring on his thumb in a rare moment of discomfiture. “I have been…incredibly unappreciative of everything I have. I do take things for granted, and that’s unbefitting of someone with my responsibilities. I have no right to be so thoughtless with my things when my people make do with so much less than I. It’s not fair to them.”

Merlin all but deflated, his anger leaving as quickly as it had appeared upon seeing the prince looking so small and uncertain. He sighed and moved to sit down in the chair on the other side of the table, feeling now it was job to boost the prince back up again after tearing him down so unmercifully. It had been a rude awakening, he knew, and a very blunt and harsh way of putting it, and guilt now crept up on him for his uncharacteristic outburst.

“I know you care for your people more than anything, Arthur,” he said gently. “And you would never do anything to harm them intentionally. You’re just used to a much higher standard than anyone else in your kingdom has ever been granted. Most peasants will never see this much wealth in their lives, let alone in one room. They would be amazed at your lifestyle, even a bit overwhelmed. I know I was when I first got here.” Arthur looked up at him, surprised. He had never thought of how other people might see him and his way of life, especially not someone like Merlin, who had never displayed any respect or deference to royalty. He guessed that just because Merlin didn’t want to bow to his title didn’t mean he couldn’t be in awe of his wealth. Merlin gave him a half smile upon seeing his expression.

“Yes, Arthur, I was impressed with the way you live,” he said. “Sometimes you forget the conditions I grew up in. You’ve been to Ealdor, you’ve been in my mother’s house. I slept in a one room hut on the floor with one thin blanket for the first seventeen years of my life. We chopped our own wood, grew our own food, cooked our own meals, cleaned our own laundry, made and mended our own clothes. All of that and more, and without the help of a single servant. Everything that I do for you on a regular basis, normal people have to do for themselves on top of their paying jobs and caring for their families.

“The life of a prince is not necessarily an easy one, I know that,” he said, making sure Arthur was looking him in the eye. “You have a huge weight of responsibility resting on your shoulders, and I know it wears on you sometimes. You run yourself ragged with your training and your meetings and your politics and everything, but you forget that the life of a servant or a farmer of a maid or a blacksmith can be just as hard, if only for different reasons. And the rest of us don’t have the security that you do, never having to be worried about where your next meal is coming from or if your boots will make it through the winter intact. Sometimes you just need to slow down, and look at those around you, and be grateful for everything you’ve been granted in this life.”

Arthur looked at Merlin as though he had never seen the man before. This was one of those moments where a strange light of insight was burning in his eyes, making him look older and surer. These were the moments that made Arthur look up to his servant, made him admire him for his surprising intelligence and compassion. These were the moments that made Arthur doubt that he could ever live up to Merlin, but that made him want to work harder to prove that he might be able to get close. Because if he could be half the man Merlin was in that moment, then he would be a man worthy of the respect of his people.

“Thank you, Merlin,” he said plainly, a small smile gracing his lips. “I know I don’t exactly encourage people to speak freely to me, but you’ve never been afraid to speak your mind, have you? And I’m rather glad you did.” Merlin grinned that wide, infectious smile at him, his bearing returning to that of his goofy, clumsy servant again.

“Well, _someone_ has to be willing to talk some sense into you,” he pointed out. “Sometimes that giant ego needs puncturing, and my wit is the only one sharp enough to get through your thick skull.” With that, Merlin snatched the bread off Arthur’s plate and scurried from the room before Arthur could give him any more chores. But he thought he heard laughter behind him as he shut the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really more of a character study portion, put into the format of a conversation. It's mostly my musings on their relationship and how and why.

“Merlin,” Arthur said later that evening, not bothering to look up from his documents. The servant glanced over his shoulder while polishing the prince’s boots, making a noise to show he was listening. “The next time I do something that you think is…insensitive or unreasonable to the people in the lower town, even if it’s because of ignorance of the way things really are outside the palace, don’t be afraid to speak up about it.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows in surprise. Usually Arthur wanted him to keep up a respectful façade in public and hold his tongue until they got away from anyone who would disapproval of his normal cheeky insolence. He didn’t want to look weak by letting his servant talk back to him, although he never had a problem with that when they were alone, only in front of others.

“Really?” he asked. “Even if there are townspeople around to hear me?”

“ _Especially_ if there are townspeople to hear you.”

“Why would you want the townspeople to hear me criticizing you?” he asked incredulously, wondering if the prince had finally lost his marbles.

“Because, Merlin, if the people see that I’m willing to listen to a servant, to actually listen and take his words into account, then they may be more willing to speak to me themselves. I don’t want my people to be afraid of me, or to think me unreachable because of my station. I want them to feel safe to approach me with their problems and not think that I’ll look down on them because they’re not nobility. Their problems are just as worthy as those of the nobles, and I them to know that I see it that way. Maybe if see that I’m willing to take your advice into consideration, they’ll feel more free to speak up as well.” Merlin didn’t answer for a moment and Arthur glanced up to see his servant smiling at him with a strange look on his face. “What?” he asked.

“You’ve come a long way, Arthur,” he said, unmistakable pride coloring his tone. Arthur was surprised and a little embarrassed at how warm his servant’s esteem made him feel and he shifted in his seat.

“From what?”

“From the man you were when I met you.” He put aside the boot and turned slightly to face him more fully. “The arrogant prince, always bullying the servants and pushing people around for laughs, completely disregarding those around you. You’re not anything like that anymore. You’ve grown into a good man.” Arthur put down his documents and looked at his servant, the first person he could really call a friend.

“You’ve had a lot to do with that, you know,” he admitted suddenly. Merlin looked a bit confused. “With me becoming a better man.”

“Really?” he asked. “How so?”

“I was so arrogant and disrespectful at that time because I had never met a peasant or a servant or a noble that I felt deserved my respect,” he explained, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a warrior, a fighter, and I respect someone who can stand his ground against an opponent. And yet everyone I had ever met, apart from Morgana, would cater to my every whim and bow at my every word. So I started pushing, just to see how far people would allow me to go. I would push and push, and everyone around me would just give in, letting me take whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it, no matter the cost to them. All the servants seemed perfectly willing to take the abuse I threw at them, no matter how humiliating it was. No one was willing to stand up for themselves, servant or noble alike, so I felt they deserved everything they were prepared to take from me. They wouldn’t have my respect until they fought for it.

“You were the first person in my life besides Morgana—who I don’t really count since we grew up practically as siblings—to actually stand up and push _back_. You, a scrawny little peasant boy, were brave enough to step in and defend someone you didn’t even know because you felt it was the right thing to do. Of course, I didn’t take kindly to it, but I wasn’t used to being criticized by anyone, especially not publically. But then once you were in the dungeons, I found I was actually rather disappointed that you hadn’t known who I was. I expected that once you knew I was the prince, you would come back bowing and stuttering apologies and begging forgiveness like the rest of them, and I was disappointed by that.

“But then you came back and stood your ground again, insulting me and mocking me and even gladly engaging in a fight in the marketplace with a mace you had no idea how to use. It may have been stupid, but it was brave. I respect fighters, Merlin, and you put up the best damn fight of anyone I’d ever met, regardless of your lack of actual combat skills. What I had been looking for for years was a battle of wills and I found it in you, Merlin. You were the first person to not be cowed by my title, the first to look me in the eye and see a _person_ instead of just a name and a crown. You weren’t afraid to challenge me in anything and everything and you earned my respect very early on for that. You showed me that everyone is worthy of my respect, despite their station or their blood, if they’re willing to fight for it like you are.”

“So you actually enjoy when I call you names and tell you’re being stupid,” Merlin asked, his tone teasing but his eyes glowing with happiness and fondness. Arthur rolled his eyes, his smile belaying his feigned irritation.

“Not in so many words, but I appreciate that you don’t treat me differently because I’m the prince. You don’t walk on eggshells around me, fearing for your life all the time, like most servants seem to. I can’t stand it when servants so submissive and nervous, like I’m going to imprison them for breathing too loudly.”

“In their defense, you have been known to put me in the stocks for humming,” Merlin pointed out.

“That’s because your humming is immensely irritating and off-key,” Arthur shot back.

“It is not off-key,” Merlin squawked indignantly. “I’ll have you know that I’m quite good musically, thank you very much.”

“Right, I’ll believe that when I hear it.”

“Is that a request for me to sing to you, sire?”

“Absolutely not, Merlin, don’t you dare start singing.”

“Are you sure, sire? I know some great tavern songs.”

“Of course you do, Merlin, what with all the time you spend in there instead of doing your duties like a proper servant.”

“Weren’t we just discussing how you didn’t like proper servants?”

“Merlin?”

“Yes, sire?”

“Shut. Up.”

“Nah, you’d get bored.”

Arthur dropped his head into his hands, trying to stifle a laugh. He heard Merlin chuckling away as he returned to polishing his boots. Merlin may have been the most improper, insolent and inefficient servant he had ever seen, but Arthur really wouldn’t have him any other way. 


End file.
